Chapter 4
Morning came gray. Alarm buzzed 6:30. I woke with knees stiff, faint ache behind skin. Reason: hardwood floor previous day. Brushed teeth, pulled same white blouse from closet, noticed ruffle still bent. Ironed neck tie quickly. Drove to office through diner lights, gas station sign flickering.
Mr. Russo office door already open at 8:22. Black shirt pressed, sleeves buttoned to wrists, hair combed. Same polish on shoes. He looked up from desk, nod brief, no smile.
"Morning, Elena," he said.
"Morning, Mr. Russo," I said.
He set binder on corner of my desk. Old intake binders, three of them, spine labels 2021-2023. Keys beside them.
"Re-file alphabetically by last name, then scan oldest year," he said. "Keep office locked during lunch. I stepped out last week and intake went missing."
Lunch lockup was new. Earlier routine: door stayed open, anyone wandered in. Now lockup duty fell only to me. Small defiance formed in chest. Decided to test boundary quiet.
I worked until 11:40. Hands moved papers, eyes blurred. At 11:45 left binders stacked, said I needed air. Stepped out without locking. Walked to sidewalk, breathed cold air, bought coffee from gas station across lot, returned 12:02.
Door stood locked. Mr. Russo stood inside, holding keys he must have taken from my desk. He opened door for me, held it.
"Elena," he said calm voice. "I asked you to keep office locked."
I swallowed. "I thought quick trip okay. No one inside."
"Lesson yesterday was about follow-through," he said. "You agreed to diligence. Lock means lock."
Breath caught. He did not raise voice. That made weight heavier.
"I understand," I said short sentence, lie slight. I did not understand why lock mattered more than trust.
He placed keys back on my desk, louder than necessary. "Subject responsive yesterday," he said, almost to himself. "Let's keep pattern."
Rest of afternoon he assigned intake calls to Mrs. Chen instead of me. Phone did not ring at my desk. Mrs. Chen glanced once, sympathetic but silent. I filed binders alone in back room, heard their low talk through wall, could not make out words. Isolation settled.
At 5:10 he checked scan pile. Flipped pages slow, found one misfiled McAllister under Mac. Tapped page.
"Detail matters," he said. "Re-do that batch tonight. Or tomorrow 7:30 a.m. early. Your choice."
Choice was not choice. I said, "Tonight."
May you like
He nodded, returned to office, left door ajar. I stayed, scanned under warm lamp light, knees aching again from sitting on floor reaching for low drawer. At 6:45 locked office myself, dropped keys in lockbox, walked to car alone. Parking lot empty except his sedan still there, engine off but interior light on, him inside looking at phone.
At home apartment light buzzed. Ate crackers standing at sink. Did not text sister. Felt trust erode thin. Knew tomorrow would bring same binder, same test. Decided to keep paper trail.
